


Junk Mail, Salacious Junk Mail, and Mail Bearing News That Could be Described as Very "Junky"

by PoboboProbably



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Depressing, F/M, Miserable, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Here Lies the Abyss, Post-Here Lies the Abyss, Rufus is in the great pie shop in the sky now, Sad, Why Did I Write This?, Why is the Rum Gone?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 12:50:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13411617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoboboProbably/pseuds/PoboboProbably
Summary: Isabela checks her mail while on her ship, only to discover a letter from Varric informing her of Rufus Hawke's death.





	Junk Mail, Salacious Junk Mail, and Mail Bearing News That Could be Described as Very "Junky"

Isabela took off her hat and propped her feet up on the desk in her quarters, letting the soft rocking of her ship lull her into a relaxing rhythm. They’d just left Amaranthine that morning after a brief visit to a smugglers’ cove on the coast— _her_ smugglers’ cove, now. While in town, she’d picked up a bit of correspondence which she lazily threw in her cabin and ignored for most of the day. Now that night had fallen and the boys on the top deck were too busy sailing to be any more fun, she had nothing better to do than read. She stretched out her arms, admiring the glow of her dark skin in the candlelight, and began sorting through the letters.

One from a tax collector, which she tossed through the open window to her left. One from the captain of one of the ships in her burgeoning fleet. Something about a shipwrecked dreadnought on the Storm Coast. Something she could easily put off until later. Another came from a merchant in Redcliffe by the name of Herbie Hind, who was selling some sort of undergarment meant to increase the size of a woman’s… Oh, this was just a trashy advertisement. Isabela tucked it into her desk drawer before continuing to sort through the pile. The next letter was from Varric, of all people. She opened it quickly, wondering what it could be about and if there would be chest hair inside the envelope. Maker, she hoped so.

_Hey, Rivaini._

Not his most creative start.

_My contacts said you’d be in Amaranthine. I hope the couriers haven’t gotten themselves lost again. I know how much you move around._

_It’s about Hawke. As you know, Corypheus turned out to be not quite as dead as we thought. Funny how things work, right? It’s like that time Hawke tried to outdrink a Qunari at the Hanged Man. Not even a pie could fix_ that _hangover. Anyway, against my better judgment, I brought him over to Skyhold so he could help us deal with it. Against_ his _better judgment, he agreed. We were in Crestwood for a while, meeting up with Stroud—you remember Stroud, right? Turns out, the Wardens were diligently doing their job and protecting Thedas by tearing themselves apart and hunting down their last sane member. I’ll admit, it’s not the worst strategy I can think of for dealing with the crazy shit that’s been happening. After that we found out that Tevinter had its hand stuck pretty far up the order’s ass. When we attacked Adamant Fortress to fix that problem, some more weird shit happened, and Hawke and the Inquisitor ended up in the Fade. I can’t explain it, and I don’t want to try._

_But I won’t hide it any longer, Rivaini. Hawke is dead. I’ve been avoiding that line since I started this damn letter. This my third try at writing it, you know. I don’t remember the last time you even saw Hawke, but I know what he meant to you. What you meant to each other. I wish I could tell you what his last words were. I wish there had been something for me to tell you about other than the fact that he’s dead. But there isn’t. I wasn’t there with him when it happened, and the Inquisitor wasn’t very forthcoming with the details, so I had to get them from our spymaster. Third hand information is never reliable, anyway. Hawke sacrificed himself to cover the Inquisitor’s escape, or so I’m told. It sounds like him._

_Of all the stories that could be told about Hawke, I really hoped I’d never have to tell this one. I’m sorry, Rivaini. If you’re ever in Skyhold, meet me at the tavern._

_Varric._

Isabela blinked for the first time since starting the letter, now aware of the tears that welled up in her eyes and slipped down her face. Hawke was _dead_? Hawke wasn’t supposed to _die_. He was supposed to wait for everything to blow over. He was supposed to find her again when it was all over. After everything they’d been through in Kirkwall, she thought, there was nothing capable of killing him. He shouldn’t be dead.

“Oh, Lucky…” she whispered under her breath, fighting the lump in her throat. 

He shouldn’t be dead.


End file.
